In my family, we write letters.

I'm not sure when it started.  Maybe with the sticky notes that my mom left everywhere, reminding us all to live, to brush our teeth, make our beds, breathe.  We used to have this long, skinny stuffed bunny that we called "the love bunny" and we'd all take turns hiding it. 

Even though it was a silly bunny, it was its own sort of letter.  A love letter to whoever found it after weeks of being in hiding.

Even now, I have two letters in my bag to mail, a letter my mother left taped to my bathroom mirror, and a pile of old ones in my top desk drawer.

I began writing letters when I was in middle school after I figured out that life was about to get really hard.  After I began to watch friends get lost in the hardness.  I began to write letters to my brother, I wanted him to know that he could make it.

I read the Scriptures because I know what a letter is and I want to remember every word, I want to know the message.  I began this blog while I was away so that my family would be able to watch me live through my words.  So that when I was home again I would be understood.

Every Christmas we write letters to each other.  We don't do presents, we wake up early and write.  And then we sit on the big couch and read them and it is enough to get us through another year.  It keeps us close to who we are.

My mother writes letters in her Bible.  I remember waking up to the sound of my father, creaking in the rocking chair and I knew exactly what he was doing.  Every morning dad creaked and turned his pages and I knew that if I went into their bedroom, mom would be propped up on pillows with her Bible and a pen. 

I knew I could curl up next to her and after she smiled at me absently, she would carry on.

It is the one thing I want when she is gone, her Bible.

I remember when I was young we went to a small shop in an outdoor mall and she handed her tattered book to him.  And the biggest part of that memory is the smile of relief on her face when he told her it could be done, for a price it could be done.

A couple of weeks ago she told me that she had written my friend's name next to a verse.  She has the whole world written in her Bible.  I had shared with her my concern, my deep love for who he could be.  My mother prays verses, there are several that she prays for me.  No one should go through life without being prayed for.

I wrote a paper about my dad, but really it is a letter also.  My classmates read it to understand me and I wrote it to understand him.  My mother sent it to his sister and she wrote me a letter back. 

I love words.

In some of my classes, we use the phrase what does it mean to you a lot.  We hate to disagree, we'll figure out a way where everyone is right.  My teachers are puzzled when I struggle with this, when I tell them no I think I was wrong.  What he said is a better answer. They think I am giving up my pride or my strength but really I am keeping something very dear.  I am asked to give up so much when it comes to words. 

And I am tired of it.

We are all packing.  The dog is pacing because she is afraid that she is going to be left but she isn't.  Three of my bags are filled with school books and papers and computer accessories.  But still, we are packing and we are leaving and we are all going to be together for the first time in a long while.

My brother has called me twice this morning, I might cry when I see him.

This summer I mentored my cousin and I told her that it is most important right now to learn how to be a sibling.  It is the one relationship that you don't have to decide or pick or choose.  And God was intentional when he put brothers and sisters together.

I told her that sometimes it is hard and you might think that you hate each other.  Or at least that you have nothing in common, nothing worthwhile to share.  But here's the beautiful truth: if you can figure out how to be together, then the rest of life is nothing.  If you can figure out what your strengths are, what his are.  How to carry each other and love each other through weaknesses and ugliness and anger. 

Well then.  The rest of life is not so hard is it? 

My sister and I drove to see my brother when I first moved back.  We spent hours and hours in the car, picking each other apart, digging deeper than we knew we could go.  And when we had to say goodbye to him, we lingered.  For hours, talking and slowly making our way to leave, not wanting to leave.  The song about being a brother's keeper came on and we sat there trying to sing parts of it.

And smiling because we knew.  That no matter what comes, we are strong together.  That we take turns falling down, but that we do not have to get back up alone.  We have giants of parents and a giant of a God and even though life is not Eden, is not what we were made for, we are all we are because of Him.

And He keeps us, for this I am thankful.